


Check-Out

by DeathSponge



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, London, M/M, Slow Burn, gratuitous mention of British supermarkets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 10:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathSponge/pseuds/DeathSponge
Summary: Shaun is only looking for a quick caffeine fix on the way to work.What he finds among the aisles of his local supermarket kick-starts a whole new addiction...





	Check-Out

Despite his every effort to prove otherwise, Shaun was not a morning person. It showed, too; in every impatient click of his tongue against his teeth, in every line of his scowl, and in the bags under his (thankfully bespectacled) eyes. He was ruminating on how little of a morning person he, in fact, was as he stamped his way down the street.

Commuting was the worst. It sucked even more when you over-slept and had to make the agonising choice between instant coffee and being on time for work. As he’d only just started this job a few months ago (and didn’t feel safe letting his true sloppiness shine through just yet), Shaun had gone without his morning caffeine and left his flat in a flurry of keys-wallet-phone. And now he was regretting his decision. His usual train had seemed to take twice the time, and was doubly packed with passengers who seemed to make it their life’s mission to breathe on him as much as possible. His walk from the station to work seemed be taking _even_ longer, and now the clouds above had begun to darken with the promise of rain.

‘Next time, Hastings,’ Shaun thought viciously, ‘it’s coffee or pulling a sickie!’  
Pondering the luxury of staying tucked up in bed whilst everyone else braved the hellish London Underground, Shaun powered his way down the street until he stopped suddenly. He’d spotted a welcome sight – a familiar blue and red logo.

A Tesco’s! Here, in this small corner of town? He’d never noticed it before! Usually, he bypassed this street and walked the long way around (partly to beef up his number of steps on the FitBit he’d bought himself last Christmas as a desperate attempt at ‘fitness’). Today, in his coffee-less impatience, he’d taken a short cut and here was his reward – a supermarket, hidden within the residential backstreets. Checking the time on his aforementioned ‘watch’ furtively, Shaun made the executive decision to duck into the shop and check out the ‘lay of the land’. In his haste this morning, he’d forgotten his lunch (packed with such care last night!) AND his breakfast (two biscuits, but at least he was eating something!), and he could already feel the hunger beginning to gnaw at his stomach. ‘Best see what culinary delights they’ve got on offer,’ he persuades himself, as he swept through the store’s automatic doors purposefully.

* * *

 

Inside, neon lights reigned supreme. The off-white floor sparkled in that sterile supermarket-before-the-rush kind of way, and Shaun felt wrong-footed in his muddy work trainers.

Gravy granules? Tangerines? A 12 pack of felt-tip pens? The layout of this store was chaotic. Clearly the stock had been unloaded by a baboon with no sense of categorisation! It sent Shaun’s OCD sky-rocketing.

Finally, he located the store’s bakery section. Ah, croissants! That was more like it. The hungry man selected the biggest from the basket (‘It’s been a stressful morning, okay?’) and popped it into one of the cellophane bags provided. Coffee was next on the agenda, but Shaun couldn’t see one of those instant coffee machines. He did, however, spy a couple of cartons of iced latte through the glass door of the optimistically-named ‘meal deal’ fridge and picked one up, alongside a plastic package dubiously marked ‘tomato and cheese pasta’. That would do; anything else felt excessive to Shaun and his moth-ridden bank account.

Laden with purchases, the tall redhead made his way towards the tills, frustrated to see that at this particular Tesco, self-checkout was not available. Great – more people to deal with.  
  
The queue was equally frustrating – long, slow-moving and full of annoying customers.  
“-and then she was like ‘shut up bitch!’ and I was like ‘nah, you’re the bitch you total bitch-whore!” a young girl was ranting loudly down her phone. Although she was two spaces in front of Shaun, it felt like she was bellowing directly down his ear canal.   
“Is it?!” the girl who Shaun had informally christened ‘Screechy’ cackled theatrically. Shaun felt the firm foundations of a migraine settle over his eye. His left eye, to be specific, which had already begun twitching with annoyance.

The line crawled along at a snail’s pace, and Shaun frequently considered throwing his arms up and forgetting the whole thing, but he felt deeply committed to the whole debacle by now. Besides, he _needed_ that coffee. Really needed it, now more than ever. Eventually, after many old women changing their minds as they got to the till, and the loud resolution of the mobile phone drama, Shaun found himself at the front of the queue.  
  
“Next please!” the cashier drawled, his voice a pleasant American oddity in the humdrum Britishness of Shaun’s morning. “So sorry about the wait! This lot could talk for America, never mind England!”  
The man behind the counter beamed at Shaun with perfect teeth, and he felt the waiting retort dry up on his lips.

“Er – no worries,” he found himself replying.

The man behind the counter smiled again, briefly, and then began scanning Shaun’s items with practiced ease. Something about him made Shaun keep his eyes on him – on his slightly tanned skin, his attractive stubble, short dark hair. Most notable was the pale scar twisted through his otherwise male-model lips.

“Sir?”

“Huh?” Shaun muttered incoherently, “Sorry, I – uh – I didn’t catch quite catch that.”

“I asked if you’d like a bag?” he repeated, patiently. His scarred lips quirked as he continued. “Though if I were you I’d forget the bag and just down the coffee – seems like you need it!”

“Uh, no bag,” Shaun grunted, as he fumbled with his bank card.

“Then that’ll be £3.87, please,” the American stated smoothly, looking down at his till whilst Shaun’s contactless card beeped green. “Great, have a nice day!”

“Yeah, you too,” Shaun replied distractedly, scooping his items up haphazardly and bundling it all out of the shop.

* * *

‘Damn, I knew I should have got a bag,’ he cursed himself, as he unceremoniously shoved his items into his already over-stuffed rucksack. No way was he going to head back inside and ask for one, though. Not with Mister Short, Dark and Handsome standing there all perfect behind the counter, anyway. The ridiculously good-looking American probably already thought he was a total idiot incapable of handling himself.

Clutching his coffee, Shaun paced along the street, bag heavier and bank account lighter. His little detour to the supermarket had cost him ten minutes, and if he didn’t get a move on soon, he’d be late for work after all.   
  
Nevertheless, Shaun couldn’t stop the small smile that played about his thin lips. Finally, he’d had his much needed coffee fix and even had his lunch situation sorted. Yeah, that was enough to smile about. It had nothing whatsoever to do with a certain charming and friendly cashier…


End file.
